Home
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: And I know just why you could not come along with me. This was not your dream, but you always believed in me.


My very first Burn Notice songfic! The song I used for this is Blake Shelton's Home, which strikes me as one of the best Michael Westen songs out there. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Michael Westen was an intelligent man.

Even as a teenager, he was smart, but problems at home led him to make not so intelligent decisions. Stealing cars, slacking off at school, chasing girls, getting suspended… Then, when he was seventeen, he finally made one of the smartest choices of his life.

He got his diploma, forged his father's signature on paperwork, and joined the army.

His mother had cried, and his little brother had begged him not to go. But his father had just sneered and insisted he still wouldn't amount to anything. He was wrong. Michael knew that if he pushed himself enough, he could make something out of his life. So he left and never looked back.

The Army was hard on him, but it was the first time he found acceptance in his life. He knew what was expected of him, and he did it. He was given awards and medals, and within a few years, the US government snatched him up and trained him to be a spy.

It wasn't until he was given an assignment in Ireland that he finally realized what he was missing in life, and it came in the form of a beautiful asset named Fiona Glenanne. Until her, he had never had a serious relationship. When he needed it, he found physical comfort in the bed of a woman he met at a bar or club. Then she dropped into his life, and he knew the first time he saw her that he was never going to be the same again.

His handlers had always warned him never to get involved with assets, and he didn't. Not until Fiona.

He sighed deeply, finally tearing his gaze away from the window that offered him a beautiful view of the streets below, and the Eifel tower in the distance. Moving slowly, he walked to the bed and reached into his open suitcase, retrieving a picture of Fiona.

She would have loved it here.

With a wistful look, he ran his fingertip along the picture, absently tracing over her beautiful face.

Every day he was surrounded by people, but he was still so completely alone. Before he met Fiona, that wouldn't have been a problem. Before Fiona, he had relished the solitary life of being a spy, of being able to pick up and go whenever the situation called for it.

Now… now it just hurt.

_Another summer day _

_Has come and gone away_

_In Paris and Rome_

_But I wanna go home_

_Baby, surrounded by _

_A million people, I_

_Still feel all alone_

_I wanna go home _

_Oh I miss you, you know_

He set the picture down with reverence. Before Fiona, he never would have brought pictures with him on an assignment. He knew that getting attached gave his enemies leverage against him. He also knew that cutting ties completely could ultimately keep Fiona safe.

But he was a selfish bastard. He couldn't do that.

On the table in the hotel room was a stack of letters he had written to Fiona in the weeks since he had left her. They were nothing deep or long, just a few words at a time when he had a few minutes to sit down and write.

I miss you.

I love you.

I'm safe.

Take care of yourself.

Be safe.

There was a couple of letters for every week that he had been away from her. He wanted to send them, but with Fiona, he knew that they wouldn't be enough.

And she deserved so much more than a couple of words on a single sheet of paper.

His phone started to ring, and he quickly answered it. As soon as the conversation was finished, he grabbed his jacket, giving the letters one more look before he left the hotel room.

God, he missed her.

_I've been keeping all the letters_

_That I wrote to you_

_Each one a line or two_

_I'm fine, baby, how are you?_

_I would send them but_

_I know that it's just not enough_

_My words were cold and flat_

_And you deserve more than that_

Early the next morning, Michael packed his suitcase with haste, tucking the letters and pictures into a hidden part of the suitcase before he closed it.

Then he grabbed the handle and left the hotel, hailing a cab outside. The nearest airport was fifteen minutes away, and his flight was in an hour. He sank back into the seat and closed his eyes briefly, and as he did, all he could see in his mind's eye was Fiona.

The cab reached the airport in twelve minutes, and Michael felt like he was on auto pilot as he picked up his ticket and went through security. How many times had he done this before in his life?

_Too many_, he thought grimly.

He made his way through the crowds of people, unable to keep from noticing one pair in particular. The man was no more than twenty and dressed in an Army uniform, and the girl was crying and laughing as she ran into his arms. A happy reunion, he noted.

He wanted a happy ending, too.

When he was finally able to board the plane, he sat down in his seat and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a small picture of Fiona.

His fingertip traced lightly over her beautiful face, and he was hit with the overwhelming need to touch her again.

_Another airplane, another sunny place_

_I'm lucky, I know_

_But I wanna go home_

_I've got to go home_

The plane took off a short while later, and as they ascended, he found himself wishing that Fiona was sitting beside him and holding his hand. He had always hated flying, something that Fiona found incredibly amusing since his job required him to travel by air so much.

"You're a big baby," she had teased him once when they were flying together and he had held onto her hand like a lifeline.

He had smiled in spite of his fear, because even though she was laughing at him, he loved to hear her laugh.

His hand curled tightly around the arm rest until his knuckles turned white.

"Fiona," he whispered, his voice drowned out by the roar of the engines.

"Fi."

_Let me go home_

_I'm just too far _

_From where you are_

_I wanna come home_

That night, after several meetings and one narrowly dodged bullet, Michael let himself into his hotel room and collapsed onto the bed.

There was a phone on the nightstand by the bed, and after only a brief hesitation, Michael reached out and grabbed it. Then he dialed a number he knew by heart.

In Miami, Fiona had just gotten out of the shower when her phone started to ring. Growling softly, she pulled on one of Michael's t-shirts, then padded across the loft and grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

Michael closed his eyes. "Fi…" The single syllable came out as a breathless whisper.

Fiona's legs nearly gave out. "Michael? Michael, are you okay?" She hadn't heard from him in weeks, and while she understood the life of a spy, being in love with one was still hard on her.

"I'm fine." He rolled onto his side. "I can't talk long. I just had to hear your voice."

Fiona sat down in his chair and crossed her legs. "I'm just glad you're okay. No one's heard from you." Her words were tainted by a slight bitterness.

"I know, and I'm sorry," he soothed.

"Are you really?"

_And I feel just like I'm living_

_Someone else's life_

_It's like I just stepped outside_

_When everything was going right_

"Of course I am." Just hearing her voice was lifting a heavy weight that had been on him, and he was reminded of how badly he missed her and how big a part of his life she was.

Fiona was quiet for several moments. "I've missed you, Michael."

"I've missed you, too, Fi." And he still wished that she had come with him. But everything he was doing was to get his burn notice lifted, and he couldn't blame her for wanting to stay in Miami.

This was something he had to do for himself, a dream that he had to make a reality. And while he knew he had Fiona's support, she saw it as something he had to do alone.

Getting out of the chair, Fiona made her way to their bed and curled up in it. "When are you going to be able to come home?"

"I… don't know, Fi." But he prayed it would be soon.

She rested her head on his pillow, and the traces of him that still lingered on their sheets surrounded her. "When will you know?"

"I'm not sure." He heard her sigh softly. "But whenever it is…it's not soon enough."

"No, it's not," she agreed.

He closed his eyes, and when the conversation was finished, he reluctantly set the phone back in its cradle. Then he rolled onto his back, tucking his hands under his head.

How much longer could he stay so far away from her?

_And I know just why you could not_

_Come along with me_

_This was not your dream_

_But you always believed in me_

In a couple of days, Michael found himself packing his suitcase again and heading off for the closest airport to catch another flight.

This airport was even more crowded than the last, and much to his shock, he kept seeing Fiona's face in the sea of nameless people.

What was going on?

As soon as he was on the plane and seated, he pulled her picture out.

An old man was sitting beside him, and he smiled at the picture Michael held. "Your sweetheart?"

Michael hesitated. Normally he avoided meaningless conversation with strangers, but his gut told him that this was just a lonely old man. "Yes. She is."

The old man scrutinized the picture. "A beautiful Irish rose. You're a lucky man."

Michael smiled. "I know I am."

The old man pulled out a picture of his own and showed it to Michael. "My Chelsea. We were married for fifty-six years."

"That's very impressive," Michael murmured as he studied the picture. He knew the cold odds of a spy living that long, but he couldn't help hoping that he and Fiona would have so many happy years together.

Suddenly it dawned on him what he had to do.

_Another winter day _

_Has come and gone away_

_In even Paris and Rome_

_And I wanna go home_

_Let me go home_

_And I'm surrounded by_

_A million people, I _

_Still feel alone_

_And I wanna go home_

_Oh, I miss you, you know_

After the flight landed, Michael found the nearest payphone and dialed a number that was burned into his head. She answered after the second ring, and it was all he could do to remain on his feet.

"Fi, it's me."

He was done running. Now all he wanted to do was get back to her as fast as he possibly could.

_Let me go home_

_I've had my run_

_Baby, I'm done_

_I'm coming back home_

The next morning, Fiona was watching patiently by the arrival gate. Sam had rode with her, and was now standing a few feet away, eager to see his best friend but willing to give them a few moments.

Michael's flight arrived on time, and as the other passengers disembarked, Fiona's heart started to beat faster.

Sam stood close by, his arms crossed over his chest. He knew the exact moment Fiona saw Michael, and he watched with a smile.

Gasping softly, Fiona weaved through the other passengers until she came to a stop in front of Michael. She took him in for a brief moment, then stepped forward and threw her slender arms around his neck.

Grinning, Michael wrapped his arms firmly around Fiona. Then he lifted her off of her feet and spun her around.

Fiona laughed and held onto Michael's neck tightly. "Michael!"

Finally he set her down and took her face into his hands. Then he kissed her deeply.

"Alright, alright, that's enough of the foo foo stuff!" Sam finally interrupted, slapping his hand against Michael's back.

Michael pulled away from Fiona and smiled at his best friend. "Good to see you, too, Sam."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's continue this celebration where there's beer." He grabbed Michael's suitcase and started to walk away.

Michael wrapped his arm securely around Fiona before they followed after Sam.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Michael?" she murmured, snuggling into his side.

With a tender smile, he kissed the top of her head.

"I think I did, Fi. I think I did."

_Let me go home_

_It'll all be all right_

_I'll be home tonight_

_I'm coming back home_

The End.

A/N: Awww! Lots of sweetness. Thanks for reading, and please review!


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